Page 32 of Preacher

Badly from the smell drifting through the room.

Leaning my shoulder against the wall, I watched him dance unknowingly for me, heart swelling with affection at his cracking voice. He looked carefree and beautiful, and even though he didn’t know it, every move he made tugged at something deep inside me.

But then he shuffled his feet like he was doing some fancy dance move and banged his knee against the lower cupboard, causing me to wince in sympathy. He shook out his leg, softly cursed, then started bopping around again.

My gaze slid over his slender body, growling possessively at the sight of him in one of my tees. Seeing your mate in a piece of your clothes did something to a man.

He slid the spatula across the surface of the pan, and that was when I noticed he was using the metal one for the grill.

The pan would be useless when he was finished scratching the hell out of it.

Drift headed down the hall toward the kitchen. One look from me and he pivoted, heading back to his room. My tee was all that Trent was wearing. Nobody saw him half nude but me.

Trent reached for a note his voice had no business attempting, and even my wolf flattened its ears. He brought the spatula up to his lips like a microphone, eyes closed, fully committed. Then he spun on one heel with a little flourish, and found me standing there.

“Ack!” He startled, stumbling back into the stove, his hand catching the pan handle. I lunged forward and yanked him clear as the eggs launched off the burner, sad little globs spattering the walls and floor.

I lifted the hem of his shirt to check his legs. “You hurt?”

“Warn a guy before sneaking up like that!” He waved at the eggs stuck like brown spackle on the wall. “I was trying to cook you breakfast. Now it’s ruined.”

It hadn’t had much of a future to begin with.

“How about I get Drift to cook while you shower?”

Trent’s hand flew to his cinnamon-brown hair. “Does it look like I stuck my finger in the socket again? I didn’t check before I left our bedroom.”

Our bedroom. I dug the sound of that.

I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, unable to resist. His skin was warm against my lips, and he smelled like me—my soap, my shampoo, my scent marking him as thoroughly as the bite on his shoulder had.

“Your hair looks perfect,” I murmured against his skin. “Messy in all the right ways.”

He shivered, and I felt the tremor go through him where my hands still gripped his waist. The eggs were forgotten, congealing on the floor, and neither of us moved to clean them up.

“I was trying to do something nice,” he said. “You fed me last night. I wanted to return the favor.”

My chest tightened at the admission. This man had spent his whole life taking care of everyone else, and his first instinct was to feed me breakfast. Even if he’d been murdering my cookware in the process.

“You don’t owe me anything, Trent.”

“I know.” He tilted his chin up to look at me, those sea-glass eyes still soft with sleep. “That’s why I wanted to.”

I kissed him properly this time, slow and thorough, tasting coffee on his tongue. His hands came up to grip my shoulders, fingers digging in just enough to ground us both. When I pulled back, his lips were swollen and his breathing had gone unsteady.

“Shower,” I growled softly. “Before I take you back to bed and we scandalize my entire pack.”

His cheeks flushed pink, but there was heat in his eyes now. “Would that be so bad?”

“Drift’s been hiding in his room for ten minutes because you’re not wearing pants.”

Trent’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god.” He tugged at the hem of my shirt, trying to make it longer. “I didn’t even think—”

“Shower.” I turned him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle push toward the hallway. “I’ll handle breakfast. And find you some actual clothes.”

He padded off, muttering something about traumatizing bikers, and I watched him go with what was probably a dopey smile on my face. My wolf was practically purring.

Grabbing paper towels, I started cleaning up the egg disaster, scraping dried bits off the wall. The pan was definitely ruined, deep scratches all through the non-stick coating. I’d have to remember to hide the metal spatulas from now on.